the invasion of Japan
Episode 9
dan kyoti
I must first say that I have been remiss on most of my posts about telling you about my travel companion. His name is Ponchi and he's Mexican. He's a little stout man who is 34 and this is his first trip to Japan as well. Ponchi has been with me for 80 percent of the trip and is a constant source of entertainment when times are dull. The rest of the time, he can be a pain in the ass as he is fond of singing, "ass fuckin, ass fuckin, dick lickin, dick lickin" everywhere we go and he refuses to eat anything that isn't American and he only drinks coke. He doesn't know one word of Japanese and has relied on me for directions, schedules, and translations for everything we do. His trip has been a bit easier socially, as he looks like he's from the Filipinos, which is much more widely accepted here. The times that we have ventured out together for a sightseeing venture, he has been a nice dash of salt to some of the more bland experiences we have encountered. He is my Sancho Panza. My Sancho Ponchi. Aimless, yet true in every way.
The plan for us today was to to board the subway and to see the Imperial Palace and the Tokyo tower and then be back in time for lunch. We would then head back out after a break and do Roppongi one last time before we leave. That was the plan.
The subway station we are in is the station that saw a nerve gas attack by terrorists some time ago and that is just making our wait for the train that much more uncomfortable. The stations here are deep underground and there is little to no air flow so anyone with claustrophobia would most likely go into a coma down here.
We get on our train and it takes us downtown. As we exit the subway station, we run into the Tokyo marathon/bike race which runs around the Imperial palace gates on this one day, each year. Getting over to the Palace from the station exit is a chore as we have to dodge runners and bikers who are moving pretty quickly. The way we do it is to run with the group a little up stream from the gate and then float across the crowd and come out at the entrance of the Palace. This works, but we are the only ones wearing coats and pants as we run the Tokyo marathon and the only ones not riding a bike in the bike race.
The palace grounds are immense. For a country that is stacked together and is impossible to navigate most of the time, this is the one area of the city that is wide open and most importantly, green. It is also the only place in Tokyo that was not destroyed in the bombings during WWII. To get inside the palace walls you have to cross a huge moat and then walk up a two mile path that leads to the "lawn" and even then, you never get close enough to the palace to see it. It's hidden from view, but it was planned that way. Of course, they don't tell you this when you show up, but you slowly figure it out after you walk around the four square miles of gardens, guardhouses, ramparts and secondary moats without seeing the palace or anything that resembles a palace. They are just not going to show you the Emperor's crib. I guess there used to be a big problem with ninjas around here and they wanted to make it hard to find if you made it on the grounds. I wonder if the ninjas could swim, it was a pretty big moat. I will say this - Graceland has nothing on this place. It is beautiful. The open spaces and pine trees make me feel at home but the four story tall rock walls take away from that feeling a bit, but I tried not to think of them.
-- the plan only allowed for one hour at the palace before we were to take the subway to the Tokyo tower-- we have been on the palace grounds for two hours and we are as far from the gate as you can get.
By the time we leave the grounds, the race has dwindled down to small packs of runners and bikers so we get into downtown without too much of a hassle. I can tell Sancho Ponchi is feeling good because the "ass eatin, ass eatin, dick suckin, dick suckin" chant has started. I have come to know him so well that I know the good moods from the bad. Bad moods are indicated by silence. Good moods are punctuated with "Hi. Ponchi, and I put out." or "Tit-tees!" as a good looking woman passes by. We are very popular over here.
Walking in downtown Tokyo we somehow get lost and end up just walking towards the direction of the tower instead of taking the subway. This isn't sitting well with either of us, but we somehow keep running into really cool areas of Tokyo as we are trying to escape it. The Ginza district is a very large Beverly hills meets Broadway and it is filled with shoppers and sightseers. The food line district is an area directly below the train line that seems to run the length of Tokyo and is filled with tiny, ten seater restaurants. The more we walk, the more we see, the more we see, the more we keep walking. We end up seeing the Shinto temple that sits at the top of the steepest steps in Japan. The theory behind the steps is that to prove your worth in Japan during the 15th century, you had to ride a horse up these steps and then back down with out falling off or killing your horse. Pretty damn impressive if you ask me. I think I would have settled for less daunting form of hazing.
By the time we reach the Tokyo tower, Sancho Ponchi has stopped chanting and is just "there in spirit". He's walking just because he has no other choice. If I left, he wouldn't have a clue how to get back and he does, secretly, want to see everything there is to see in Tokyo. The few times that he was left behind, he missed out on tug of war, cemeteries, prisons and mountain climbing, so he is not going to leave my side if something is going to happen. I do notice that when he is around, he reminds me to take photos, something I have a hard time doing.
It's 4 PM. We are up the tower and back down by 4:30. I would like to say it was worth the visit, but we have already seen everything that you can see from there, up close and personal and we could have cared less by the time we got up there. We are both tired, hungry and we need some rest if we are to tear it up in Roppongi tonight.
The walk back leads us back into Roppongi and past the Russian embassy. While casually walking by, a protest by some pissed off locals signals a high alert and police scramble to contain the situation. The situation turns out to be four vans with loud speakers driving down a nearby street and the containment involves some serious road blocks that just pop up in an instant, stopping all traffic. Wanting to see what is going on, I start to run toward the barriers which have blocked us inside the embassy area. This signals another kind of reaction from the police. One I am not too fond of. I get detained. Apparently, they think I might have been trying to do something to the barriers to make it possible for the protestors to get inside of them. While I am sitting there watching my short, pleasurable Asian vacation turn into an long, uncomfortable Asian incarceration, I am saved by the quick acting, smooth talking Mr. Ass eatin - ass eatin - dick suckin - dick suckin himself. He somehow explains who we are, and why I was running toward the barrier. I just wanted a picture and I show them the photos in my camera and they see that we are hapless victims here and they let me go. Mr. Sancho Ponchi has saved my misguided life.
We get back to the hotel at five and I buy him dinner. Of course, it's free for us to eat here, but it's the thought that counts. We have to make new plans for our evening, but we decide that we will not dance the night away, but watch futbol in an Irish pub down in Roppongi. The games are live and the beer is cheap.
Sancho goes to his room and takes a nap and I get back on a train and head back to Ginza so I can see the buildings that have been made into televisions, etc. Ginza is everything I thought it was going to be and the lights are glorious. In tribute to Sancho, I took a lot of photos, but none of them capture the essence of actually being there. I wandered around for hours and decided that I would walk back to Roppongi as opposed to taking the train. I have had better decisions in my life, a lot better. Getting around Tokyo during the day is pretty difficult when you don't speak Japanese or read it. It's even harder when it's dark and the only people out are scoundrels. Roppongi might as well have been in another country because no one wanted to help or if they did, they sent me in different directions.
I sat down.
I watched the mini cars drive by. Little cars. Ones that look like you need to press down on them really hard and then rub them back and forth against the ground before you let them go, just so they will go. In Japan you have to prove that you have a parking space at home before you can buy a car. And the size of your space determines what kind of car you can buy. If you think that space isn't an issue here, you would be wrong. Even their letters are stacked on top of each other to save space.
All I see around me is Japanese symbols and in my head I am trying to learn what they mean. The only symbols I know are the ones I have read on the necks and ankles of women and those only mean, "peace, harmony and love", they could mean "break glass in case of fire" but what do Americans care.
I am the Tokyo superhero and I will find my way. I do. It takes an extra hour, but I find Roppongi by accident and I am happily sipping suds with Bryan from Scotland and a dozen beautiful women from around the UK that think my accent is sexy and they are very flirty. ( I really should visit the UK...) Normally I would have been nasty at this point, BUT futbol is on and I am here to drink with Sancho, who isn't anywhere to be found. By the end of the first match, a million bad jokes and a lot of flirty gestures, I am drunk. Sancho shows up and for the first time on this trip, I am really glad to see him. I was worried that I was going to end up dead wearing a kilt if I stayed much longer and his arrival was greatly appreciated. However, he's drunk too, having drank his way into Roppongi from the hotel.
The games end, it's late and the women and the Scots are all gone. Sancho and I have have conquered Japan and tomorrow the long trip into nothing begins. You can come to Japan with little more than a plane ticket and an open mind and have the greatest time. You need nothing else.
dan kyoti
I must first say that I have been remiss on most of my posts about telling you about my travel companion. His name is Ponchi and he's Mexican. He's a little stout man who is 34 and this is his first trip to Japan as well. Ponchi has been with me for 80 percent of the trip and is a constant source of entertainment when times are dull. The rest of the time, he can be a pain in the ass as he is fond of singing, "ass fuckin, ass fuckin, dick lickin, dick lickin" everywhere we go and he refuses to eat anything that isn't American and he only drinks coke. He doesn't know one word of Japanese and has relied on me for directions, schedules, and translations for everything we do. His trip has been a bit easier socially, as he looks like he's from the Filipinos, which is much more widely accepted here. The times that we have ventured out together for a sightseeing venture, he has been a nice dash of salt to some of the more bland experiences we have encountered. He is my Sancho Panza. My Sancho Ponchi. Aimless, yet true in every way.
The plan for us today was to to board the subway and to see the Imperial Palace and the Tokyo tower and then be back in time for lunch. We would then head back out after a break and do Roppongi one last time before we leave. That was the plan.
The subway station we are in is the station that saw a nerve gas attack by terrorists some time ago and that is just making our wait for the train that much more uncomfortable. The stations here are deep underground and there is little to no air flow so anyone with claustrophobia would most likely go into a coma down here.
We get on our train and it takes us downtown. As we exit the subway station, we run into the Tokyo marathon/bike race which runs around the Imperial palace gates on this one day, each year. Getting over to the Palace from the station exit is a chore as we have to dodge runners and bikers who are moving pretty quickly. The way we do it is to run with the group a little up stream from the gate and then float across the crowd and come out at the entrance of the Palace. This works, but we are the only ones wearing coats and pants as we run the Tokyo marathon and the only ones not riding a bike in the bike race.
The palace grounds are immense. For a country that is stacked together and is impossible to navigate most of the time, this is the one area of the city that is wide open and most importantly, green. It is also the only place in Tokyo that was not destroyed in the bombings during WWII. To get inside the palace walls you have to cross a huge moat and then walk up a two mile path that leads to the "lawn" and even then, you never get close enough to the palace to see it. It's hidden from view, but it was planned that way. Of course, they don't tell you this when you show up, but you slowly figure it out after you walk around the four square miles of gardens, guardhouses, ramparts and secondary moats without seeing the palace or anything that resembles a palace. They are just not going to show you the Emperor's crib. I guess there used to be a big problem with ninjas around here and they wanted to make it hard to find if you made it on the grounds. I wonder if the ninjas could swim, it was a pretty big moat. I will say this - Graceland has nothing on this place. It is beautiful. The open spaces and pine trees make me feel at home but the four story tall rock walls take away from that feeling a bit, but I tried not to think of them.
-- the plan only allowed for one hour at the palace before we were to take the subway to the Tokyo tower-- we have been on the palace grounds for two hours and we are as far from the gate as you can get.
By the time we leave the grounds, the race has dwindled down to small packs of runners and bikers so we get into downtown without too much of a hassle. I can tell Sancho Ponchi is feeling good because the "ass eatin, ass eatin, dick suckin, dick suckin" chant has started. I have come to know him so well that I know the good moods from the bad. Bad moods are indicated by silence. Good moods are punctuated with "Hi. Ponchi, and I put out." or "Tit-tees!" as a good looking woman passes by. We are very popular over here.
Walking in downtown Tokyo we somehow get lost and end up just walking towards the direction of the tower instead of taking the subway. This isn't sitting well with either of us, but we somehow keep running into really cool areas of Tokyo as we are trying to escape it. The Ginza district is a very large Beverly hills meets Broadway and it is filled with shoppers and sightseers. The food line district is an area directly below the train line that seems to run the length of Tokyo and is filled with tiny, ten seater restaurants. The more we walk, the more we see, the more we see, the more we keep walking. We end up seeing the Shinto temple that sits at the top of the steepest steps in Japan. The theory behind the steps is that to prove your worth in Japan during the 15th century, you had to ride a horse up these steps and then back down with out falling off or killing your horse. Pretty damn impressive if you ask me. I think I would have settled for less daunting form of hazing.
By the time we reach the Tokyo tower, Sancho Ponchi has stopped chanting and is just "there in spirit". He's walking just because he has no other choice. If I left, he wouldn't have a clue how to get back and he does, secretly, want to see everything there is to see in Tokyo. The few times that he was left behind, he missed out on tug of war, cemeteries, prisons and mountain climbing, so he is not going to leave my side if something is going to happen. I do notice that when he is around, he reminds me to take photos, something I have a hard time doing.
It's 4 PM. We are up the tower and back down by 4:30. I would like to say it was worth the visit, but we have already seen everything that you can see from there, up close and personal and we could have cared less by the time we got up there. We are both tired, hungry and we need some rest if we are to tear it up in Roppongi tonight.
The walk back leads us back into Roppongi and past the Russian embassy. While casually walking by, a protest by some pissed off locals signals a high alert and police scramble to contain the situation. The situation turns out to be four vans with loud speakers driving down a nearby street and the containment involves some serious road blocks that just pop up in an instant, stopping all traffic. Wanting to see what is going on, I start to run toward the barriers which have blocked us inside the embassy area. This signals another kind of reaction from the police. One I am not too fond of. I get detained. Apparently, they think I might have been trying to do something to the barriers to make it possible for the protestors to get inside of them. While I am sitting there watching my short, pleasurable Asian vacation turn into an long, uncomfortable Asian incarceration, I am saved by the quick acting, smooth talking Mr. Ass eatin - ass eatin - dick suckin - dick suckin himself. He somehow explains who we are, and why I was running toward the barrier. I just wanted a picture and I show them the photos in my camera and they see that we are hapless victims here and they let me go. Mr. Sancho Ponchi has saved my misguided life.
We get back to the hotel at five and I buy him dinner. Of course, it's free for us to eat here, but it's the thought that counts. We have to make new plans for our evening, but we decide that we will not dance the night away, but watch futbol in an Irish pub down in Roppongi. The games are live and the beer is cheap.
Sancho goes to his room and takes a nap and I get back on a train and head back to Ginza so I can see the buildings that have been made into televisions, etc. Ginza is everything I thought it was going to be and the lights are glorious. In tribute to Sancho, I took a lot of photos, but none of them capture the essence of actually being there. I wandered around for hours and decided that I would walk back to Roppongi as opposed to taking the train. I have had better decisions in my life, a lot better. Getting around Tokyo during the day is pretty difficult when you don't speak Japanese or read it. It's even harder when it's dark and the only people out are scoundrels. Roppongi might as well have been in another country because no one wanted to help or if they did, they sent me in different directions.
I sat down.
I watched the mini cars drive by. Little cars. Ones that look like you need to press down on them really hard and then rub them back and forth against the ground before you let them go, just so they will go. In Japan you have to prove that you have a parking space at home before you can buy a car. And the size of your space determines what kind of car you can buy. If you think that space isn't an issue here, you would be wrong. Even their letters are stacked on top of each other to save space.
All I see around me is Japanese symbols and in my head I am trying to learn what they mean. The only symbols I know are the ones I have read on the necks and ankles of women and those only mean, "peace, harmony and love", they could mean "break glass in case of fire" but what do Americans care.
I am the Tokyo superhero and I will find my way. I do. It takes an extra hour, but I find Roppongi by accident and I am happily sipping suds with Bryan from Scotland and a dozen beautiful women from around the UK that think my accent is sexy and they are very flirty. ( I really should visit the UK...) Normally I would have been nasty at this point, BUT futbol is on and I am here to drink with Sancho, who isn't anywhere to be found. By the end of the first match, a million bad jokes and a lot of flirty gestures, I am drunk. Sancho shows up and for the first time on this trip, I am really glad to see him. I was worried that I was going to end up dead wearing a kilt if I stayed much longer and his arrival was greatly appreciated. However, he's drunk too, having drank his way into Roppongi from the hotel.
The games end, it's late and the women and the Scots are all gone. Sancho and I have have conquered Japan and tomorrow the long trip into nothing begins. You can come to Japan with little more than a plane ticket and an open mind and have the greatest time. You need nothing else.
posted by Daniel Loomis | 2:02 AM
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